


love removal machine

by frostedlipstick



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Doggy Style, F/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, PWP, You know the comma drill by now, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12167664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedlipstick/pseuds/frostedlipstick
Summary: fire(n): 2) a burning, glowing, or luminous sensation.





	love removal machine

**Author's Note:**

> so i guess this is my brand now... patrick isn't even my favourite, although i enjoy writing him more than henry because he's easier. this can follow on from dr feelgood if you want it to, it's all down to personal preference. i wrote this in celebration of the autumn equinox... yeah.
> 
> i still feel like this sucks and i failed at his characterisation ughughughugh. i decided to write it cause my henry fic flopped and i need praise to survive. sorry if any of the formatting is dodgy, i had to type most of this on my ipod.
> 
> talk to me on tumblr about IT! interaction makes the world go round!
> 
> the title is the ABSOLUTE FUCKING BANGER by the cult (incidentally the same song that was playing during the hallway scene, and is also my blog title.)

The cool autumn air swirled around you as you stepped out of the car, the scent of dewy grass and last night's campfire ashes high on the breeze. Thin sunshine strained through thick pines and light mist as you wrapped your coat further over your body, your breath a pale smoke in front of your face. Behind you, Patrick slammed the car door shut and jumped onto the ground, boots already unlaced and left in the car, sloping towards you round the back of the Trans-Am with wet socks. He rested a hand on the roof as you stared at the clearing, a mattress and tartan blanket crudely set out on the woodchips. A white pillow poked out from under the colourful fabric, and there was a pile of sticks a few feet away, carefully arranged to make what you assumed would be a fire.

"Cute, right?" you heard Patrick say, that predatory smile all too evident in his voice.

"Super cute," you replied.

You felt his hand on the small of your back, pushing you forwards gently. Your feet squelched a little over the wet grass as you walked to the mattress. Along with the pillow, it looked clean; he'd probably stolen it from his parents' bedroom. You squatted down, sniffing the blanket. The fabric smelt of washing powder and Patrick's deodorant. The familiar click-snap sound of the Zippo came from behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Patrick lighting the array of sticks. The wood curdled, snapping and browning as it popped, little orange-white embers engulfing the mass until it roared up into a slow jet of flame. Gray smoke blurred the sun as you inhaled the scent of burning wood. It was almost homely in a way. You thought of Christmas commercials showing happy couples sitting in front of roaring log fires. The Lifetime channel would have a field day with this. Patrick stood up, wiping at his mouth and tossing the lighter to the ground as he made his way over to you. His stance was firm, eyes shadowed yet glittering with the reflection of the flames, and he began to work at unzipping your coat as you tugged at his jeans. Patrick undressed you with the same care that a mother would dress her child for school; his hands were slow and methodical, shaking slightly, that silly crazed eager smile fixed on his face as he unbuttoned your dress and you tugged it over your head. His jeans were around his ankles, and soon were kicked over to join your sneakers as he pulled his shirt up, winding it around his finger with a flourish. You stared at his skinny body ( _barely enough to keep a sparrow alive_  his parents had been fond of saying), your hands tracing over clavicle and shoulder blades and the shadows of his ribcage. His lean muscle felt firm under your touch. Patrick unclipped your bra, tugging down your panties with both hands and releasing a breath as he looked over you.

"Special, so special," you heard him whisper, callused fingertips feeling over your lips and cheekbone, his hand moving around to stroke up into your hair, smiling at the way you sighed and leaned your head back into his touch. Patrick leaned in to you, pressing a slow, forceful kiss to your mouth. Your hands clutched at his shoulders as his mouth slid from your lips to your chin, beginning a slow decent downwards. He gripped your legs as he slowly kneeled down, his journey over your body punctuated with light kisses. He stopped at the bottom of your abdomen, knees flat on the mattress, cock hard between his legs.

"Patrick," you whispered, and he knew from your tone that this wasn't a want, it was a _need_.

He was happy to give. You twitched and moaned as his tongue licked flat over your clit, shadows from the fire showing the contours of your body as you moved, snakelike, from side to side. It was like you were in rapture. Patrick loved this the most about you; he loved the salty, needy tang of you that was all for him. He loved you coming on his face at the end of it. He'd eat you out till you cried in the school bathrooms just to have your taste in his mouth throughout Spanish. Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling his face closer instinctively, hips jerking as you hissed his name into the autumn evening on repeat. He had such a lovely mouth, his tongue wet and warm as he fucked it up into you, chapped lips sucking at your clit. You felt his hands grip your waist as he carefully pushed you down on your back, his tongue leaving you. You whined at the loss of contact as he wriggled forwards, shoving your legs apart. Three fingers slid into you, as easy as breathing, Patrick moving them slowly.

"I could easily fit more in you, you're so wet," you heard him say. "Bet I could fit my whole _hand_ in your pussy. You'd like that, yeah? For me to fist you 'till you shriek?" He blew lightly over your clit, the cold air on hot skin causing you to jolt upwards with a cry.

"You're so keyed up– here, let me help you." His lips went straight to your clit again, teeth nipping lightly around the sensitive nerves. You gasped, yanking his hair, your face flushing pink as he glared up at you. The cold glacial blue of his eyes had melted to deep indigo. You thought of black holes and dangerous water. Forces of nature. Your legs drifted apart to allow him more access, your body shuddering as you buried your face in your shoulder.

"No, no. Look at me," Patrick said, voice dark as he smacked at your thigh. "Wanna see you come."

You turned your head back, eyes pleading, hips bucking into his face. "Patrick- fucking g- _god_ \- _Patrick_!"

Your mouth opened in a soundless cry as you bit your wrist, Patrick thrusting his fingers faster into you as you came. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a long, keening whine, sounding like a trapped animal as you rode his hand. His mouth wasn't even touching you properly anymore, instead hanging half-open as he stared at you, panting over your skin.

"You're so fucking _hot_ ," he said, voice breathless with awe. His eyes were glassy, and his expression suddenly turned to a leer as he rolled you onto your front, your cheek pressed into the mattress, crawling over you and shielding you with his body. He lowered his head until his breath tickled your face and his whispers were direct into your ear.

"You're lucky nobody's around," Patrick murmured, fingertips moving your hair from your face. "You're gonna be fucked 'till you cry. And I wanna hear you throughout all of it."

You nodded, eyes big. He took this as acceptance, and pushed into you, moving his hips in a slow grind. You groaned, lacing your hand over his and squeezing hard as he pressed small kisses to your neck. Patrick's muscles tensed and flexed against your back as he picked up the pace, the fire casting a burning glow on you both that made your skin slick with sweat, hoarse cries escaping from your throat as he pushed your face into the mattress. The blanket was itchy as he rubbed your head against it, giggling all the while. You shivered when he dragged his tongue up your neck to lick your sweat, his hiss of " _Delicious_ ," making your skin crawl as he leaned back up. A moan escaped you every time he thrust, yelping out his name as his hand crept around your neck to squeeze, your eyes watering. He was living up to his promise.

Patrick's hand tightened around your neck as he groaned, and you looked up to see him tucking his hair back. "No," you choked out. "Leave it– looks hot." He fluffed his hair forward, his face blocked by most of it. You could make out wild eyes and gritted teeth, and you let your head flop forwards and Patrick's hand slide over your face as you came, your teeth biting down between his thumb and index finger.

The pain was enough for Patrick, who roared loud enough to frighten away anyone who could have been around as his orgasm hit. You shielded your head as he raked his nails over your scalp, teeth pressed against the nape of your neck as his body shook, letting out a strangled yell of "ohfuckohfuckfuck _FUCK_ jesusCHRIST _YES_ " as he shoved both hands through his hair and tugged hard. You exhaled beneath him, crawling forwards shakily until you were both separated. You weakly tugged the blanket over your body, the night air now freezing. The fire was still burning bright as you felt Patrick curl up behind you, his flushed skin raw and hot to touch.

"Thank you," he whispered.

You kissed his fingertips, eyes wide as you both watched the flames.


End file.
